This diffident smile
by Foodwise
Summary: Sorry, no summary for this one...
1. Chapter 1

**CSI:LV, T, Angst/Romance, Sara Sidle/Sofia Curtis**

**Disclaimer: CSI, its characters, places, and situations are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer Television, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS Productions. This story was written for entertainment not monetary purposes. Original characters, and this story, are intellectual property of the author. Any similarities to existing characters, fictional or real, living or dead, are coincidental and no harm is intended.**

Happy Birthday, Hun.

I hope this will, though I doubt it, measure up to the bar I set lately. And yes, it's a tad bit more than a drabble, despite the predicament I'm still in with the computer, which ate the fic I originally wrote, too.

So it is a bit rushed and a bit clichéd, _I am aware of that!_. Just imagine it to be a scene taken out of a much longer story, and then it works quite well.

There you go!

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><p><strong>This diffident smile<br>**

1.

It had been three days since Sara was supposed to return from her unexpectedly and in quite a haste requested days off. Yet Sofia had not seen her at any crime scene nor in the labs whenever she had business there. Like right now.

Well, her main reason to drop by had mostly been that Greg had promised her a very decent cup of coffee after she had almost been freezing her ass off at their latest crime scene, a conveniently cooled slaughterhouse. She'd cursed the fact that she'd foregone to put at least a sweater into her sedan more times than she liked to admit, and goosebumps still seemed to cover her skin almost everywhere just thinking about the past one and a half hours.

So she nipped at the hot black goodness again, her thoughts far away, when she heard someone clear their throat. Loudly.

As her head whipped around and she was faced with two raised brows and a curious grin on Greg's face, she concluded that he must've tried to get her attention for some time already.

"Are you okay, Sofia? You seemed to have completely spaced out."

Concern grew on his still so boyish features, and Sofia scowled, knowing Greg he wouldn't back off an time soon.

"I was just wondering if Sara prolonged her sudden holiday. She told me she'd be back by Tuesday, yet I haven't seen her around."

Looking torn, Greg carefully wagered how much he would be allowed to tell Sofia.

Who wouldn't be as good a Detective as she was had she not noticed the silent internal struggle in the young CSI.

"Look, I don't want you to tell me anything you're not sure you should. I can tell by the look on your face that you do now what's up, and it already calms me to know that you obviously have information of where she is and what's going on. I was just..."

She paused, realising what she'd just been about to say.

_I'm just worried. I just wish Sara would trust me more. I wish we would talk more at all. I wish I knew what was going on, she looked so forlorn when she left that afternoon. I wish I had the guts to just ask her to have coffee with me, or breakfast. I wanna get to know her. I wish she'd let me. Let me show her why I care. I'm worried for a fucking reason. _

Never missing a beat, Greg read Sofia shockingly well.

"I know you're worried about her. I'm too. Knowing 'what's up' doesn't ease that notion. Not at all." He stared directly into Sofia's eyes, as if daring her to inquire some more. Like he wanted to share what was obviously a bit of a burden to know. "I'm guessing I'm the only one she told. Well, apart from Grissom, but you know him, he doesn't do well with social clues and he often doesn't see emotional hardships when they take hold of his people. He has Catherine for that, she never fails to kick his butt and _politely_ point him into the right direction. But when it comes to Sara, Cath is a little indifferent herself."

The hint of a smile that had played around Sofia's mouth for a moment during Greg's explanation was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared. She frowned and Greg sighed and sucked in a long, tired breath.

"She's already back in town, even a day earlier than she'd planned. There was some-" He paused, intent to avoid the actual subject matter, yet give Sofia something. "Some serious business she had to attend to in San Francisco. I can't give you any more than that, as much as I'd like, you know how careful Sara is with trusting in people. And she does trust me and I won't betray that. She just called me when she got back and told me she'd taken some more days off, that she needed some time and most of all space to deal with a couple of things. _Dealing_ usually involves a drink or two and countless hours of brain-melting contemplation when it comes to Sara. A week can be long, Sofia. Like I said, I'm worried, too. I tried calling yesterday, but her cell went directly to voice mail and at home I only reached the machine, too. She obviously doesn't want to talk. I had planned on simply dropping by unannounced today, but something tells me that maybe it should be you who should be going."

Sofia felt a wave of heat followed by the feeling of freezing right down to her bones, not unlike the moment she'd left the warehouse, and she trembled, not liking the implication.

"Why me? We're not even friends. I don't think Sara even likes me. And I sure as hell know she doesn't trust me. Not with anything that's not work-related. No, Greg, you go and make sure she's okay. Just tell me tomorrow, okay?"

Looking rather dejected, Greg took one step towards the Detective.

"Sofia, could you trust _me_ on this? Because you're wrong in your assumption, I think you couldn't even be more beside the point. She told you, in person, that she was leaving Las Vegas for a couple of days, didn't she? Well, then the two of us are the only ones, aside from Grissom, but then he had to sign the papers and had to know. The guys didn't know, Cath didn't know. That's what I have to say about you thinking she doesn't trust you. As far as liking goes, I guess that's something you should be asking her yourself."

Lowering his voice, the concern on Greg's face grew.

"There's a juicer in the second cupboard from the right. Buy some grapefruit, a wholewheat bagel and I'll give you some of my coffee. She'll be hungover when you go directly after your shift ends in the morning, I can tell you that much. When she lets you in, don't bother any of the shit she'll probably be throwing at you for invading her privacy. Just don't buy it. Let her rant and prepare her some breakfast. Don't let her get away with just drinking the coffee. Don't let her get away with telling you bullshit about where she's been and what she's done there. Grill her. Go all Detective on her if you have to. Don't be intimidated by anything. Tell her you've been worried. Tell her you care. Sara's got a front made of pure granite, a whole system of walls protecting her, but beneath, there's this wonderful, warm, caring, loveable, attentive, charming, thoughtful and sensitive person. She rarely shows just how beautiful she is, inside and out. But I bet my next pay check you can manage to get through to the real Sara."

Sofia listened carefully, and astonished by the insights Greg possessed about this woman who had remained an enigma to Sofia as long as she'd known the broody brunette.

"How did you-"

Greg interrupted her with a wave of his hand.

"I've been mature for once, Sofia, quite some time ago now, and maybe I was also lucky and caught her in a good mood. We're friends, better friends than most know. Like I said, Det. Curtis. Just trust me on this."

He was being serious. Way more serious than she had ever seen him. And she didn't question that she already knew she'd do exactly as he'd just told her. It would take a lot of guts to face Sara the way Greg had suggested, but it would probably also finally resolve some things.

Issues Sofia had with Sara. Her very private ones. But those were a secondary concern now. She just wanted to know why Sara had first confided in her and then: nothing. She just wanted to make sure she was okay. Just wanted to know if there was anything she could do. Stop this game of one step forward and two steps back that seemed to have been going on between them for wuite some time now.

"Okay..." She pressed out, chewing on her upper lip, eyeing Greg for a reaction.

He smacked his lips and nodded.

"Good. She won't rip your head off, you know. Just don't expect her to be the least bit accommodating. And Sofia?"

She raised her brows in question.

"Huh?"

"When she softens, give her room to explain. Time. Just go with it. You have great instincts in your job. I suspect they translate beyond that..."

The hug came unexpected, even for Sofia who had initiated it.

"You're that kind of a friend most people can only hope for, do you even realise that, Greg? I really hope you do."

More the old Greg she knew, the sandy haired man blushed. But took the compliment in stride, with a sheepish expression on his clear shaven face.

"Thanks. I'm trying."

"Mature suits you Greg. Now gimme some of that precious coffee of yours."

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><p><strong>No, this is not it. End part 13.**


	2. Chapter 2

Aw... First present of the day... I should have added a virtual bow to this. Here you go, more to unwrap.

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><p>2.<p>

Sofia had taken her time. She didn't want to rush just because she was so very anxious. So she drove home first, took a shower, put a load into the washing machine, and stealing some of the Blue Hawaiian from the small bag made herself another coffee.

Sitting at her kitchen island, she tried to assess her feelings about the situation. If she was being truthful to herself, she was terrified. Approaching a person as private as Sara Sidle in the manner she intended to was a huge risk, it seemed almost certain she would be pushed away even farther, even thought Greg saw it differently. People who feel that they have something to hide from those surrounding them usually didn't respond in any good way if confronted. She'd tried to stage an intervention on a friend in college once, who seemedto be on the best way to hunger herself to death, and it backfired big time. And ended with the girl being transported to the ICU with multi organ failure after she had shut everyone out. She survived, but barely, and Sofia had always kept the hidden doubt that their interfering had only strengthened the girl's conviction. Sure, this wasn't even close to a 'life or death'-scenario, but it would hurt if Sara repelled her for good after today. Maybe even a little more than Sofia really wanted to risk.

God, she didn't even know why she went there in her mind, but something told her that despite the brashness she intended to make use of, she should stay alert and just listen to her gut. Greg was right. Her intuition had always been a strong suit of hers. She absolutely didn't want Sara to take this the wrong way, or not even give her a chance to explain.

But then, could she? If it came to that, could she take the leap and _really_ explain?

She dropped by a convenience store on the way to Sara's apartment, buying a net of organic grapefruit and two rye bagels, some additional cream cheese since she didn't know what she'd find in Sara's fridge, and too soon she sat in the car outside Sara's apartment complex, fidgeting nervously with her key ring pendant.

Show time.

The first three times Sofia knocked, there was no answer, not even any detectable movement behind the wooden door.

On the fourth, there was a faint groan, and on the fifth, more insistent one, some cursing, a crash followed by more swearing, and then, uneven footsteps approaching.

A moment of silence, then the door swung open.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Swallowing down her unusual urge to rather flight than fight, Sofia charged forwards without waiting for Sara to step out of the way or even offering her to enter, and brushing the even barefooted still a bit taller woman, she stepped into the dimly lit apartment.

"What the hell, Sofia?"

Sara's exclamation was tinged with unbridled annoyance, but Sofia didn't falter, she dropped the bag onto the counter, took one last deep breath and turned to face the music.

"I'm bringing you breakfast. And I think you owe me an explanation, even if you don't think you do. So don't even try to stop me from what I'm doing and just get your ass on that chair."

Taken aback by the sheer audacity in Sofia's behaviour, it took Sara a moment to adjust to this completely unexpected situation.

Using the little breather effectively, Sofia opened the cupboard Greg had mentioned, found the citrus juicer easily, and set it down on the work surface, then rummaged through the only drawer in search for a kitchen knife to half the grapefruit, a cutting board was easily enough found since it leaned against the tiled wall beside the sink.

The brunette pressed her palms against her eyes and winced, then swiped her face, her movements slow and indicating she was in pain.

"Great. Make yourself at home in my kitchen. Don't mind me, I'm just gonna go back to the couch and get some more sleep."

Not liking that Sara got defensive instead of more aggressive so easily, Sofia swivelled around, the knife still in hand.

"Oh no, you don't. Make yourself useful. I can practically see that headache. I'm preparing you some grapefruit juice, you make some coffee."

She threw the small bag into Sara's direction, who caught it with more luck than actual reflexes in her current state and mumbled something unintelligible as she reluctantly went to work, being hungover obviously limiting her wits enormously.

Now, so far this was almost easier than Sofia had feared.

Sara worked the coffee machine with frustrated movements, slapping the lid shut louder and more forceful than necessary, bumping into Sofia purposely as she filled the small water tank.

The scratching of stool legs across wooden floors indicated that Sara was indeed settling down at the counter, but Sofia could barely feel a little proud with herself before she was addressed again.

"As for an explanation, I rather think _you_owe _me_ one. How dare you just barge in here like you owned the place. How do you even know where I keep all my stuff? You know that I am tolerating you being here, in my place, my home, just because I want to know what it is you have to say to me. Because something obviously weighs on your precious mind, Detective. You're usually not like this."

She smashed her hand down onto the counter, biting back her own wheeze of pain at the sound, and Sofia started, cutting her finger at the sudden movement and bang.

Sara, who's view of the little accident was blocked by Sofia's back, just laughed humourlessly at the reaction she had wanted to provoke.

"So jumpy."

Hissing, the blonde ripped a paper towel off the roll and wrapped it around her bleeding left index finger. Then turned slowly.

"And you're fucking insensitive."

Sara's eyes darted to the rapidly reddening impromptu bandage, but she made no move to come to Sofia's aid.

"And why's that?"

Cursing under her breath and throwing an almost furious glare into the general direction of the brunette, Sofia hasted to replace the paper towel with a new one, internally preparing her next move.

"You know, I figured out that I was pretty much the only one you told you'd leave. Why, I don't have the slightest idea. Well, if that was another half-baked move to to tell me you're actually warming up to me and appreciate the conversations we had lately, it didn't stick long, did it? Because then you don't show up at work when you said you would be back. And no text. No mail. Just Grissom's calmness about your obvious absence telling me that you must have prolonged your leave."

Sara's incredulous expression told Sofia everything she needed to know. The investigator hadn't even considered she would care. Would even notice. So she pressed on.

"Did the thought that I might worry ever even cross your mind? Because I did, you know? You took off like your ass was on fire, you should've seen the expression on your face, Sara!"

The bleeding still continued, but Sofia was beyond the point of caring about a cut. Something that sat much deeper than just friendly worry had taken over. She was getting irrationally angry. She poured the juice she'd already pressed into a glass that had been standing on the drying rack, and crossing the distance between herself and the counter swiftly, slammed it down in front of a stunned looking brunette.

"Drink this. I can still smell the alcohol on your breath. You better had a hangover from hell. You definitely deserve it. Humour me, Sara."

If there was ever a breaking point to a Sara Sidle that was miserable, physically and emotionally exhausted from her trip, essentially still too far away for dealing with yet another reality she had avoided to face, just like the one she'd just gone through, her mother asking her for redemption while she was wasting away in some hospice in California, this was it.

She jumped out of the chair, sweeping the glass off the counter with the back of her hand so it crushed into the nearest kitchen cabinet and shattered to pieces, juice and pulp running down the foreside of its door.

"Out!" She growled. "I want you out of my apartment, Sofia, right now. You don't know what-" She stopped herself and gulped in a large mouthful of air. "You have no idea what you're talking about. Right now I'm regretting that I ever told you in the first place. How dare you come here trying to confront me about something you have no idea about! I can do whatever I want, I'm not obligated to anyone but myself. And how dare you judge me in the same breath. Go, now!"

But Sofia stood her ground, toe to toe with the aggravated brunette, her hand still held up, blood slowly running down her forearm and dripping onto the tiles of the kitchen area.

"Did you even hear what I was saying, Sara? Or are you so self-absorbed that you don't even realise when someone says they worry? Or do you just not care? Do you think I would do what I'm doing right now if I didn't think I had a reason? I'm confronting you because I want to understand, Sara. Why you are so closed off. Why you reach out just to draw back before someone can get a real hold on you. When you don't need to. I'm not here to hurt you or, god beware, judge you in any kind of way. Forego the coffee and the juice, there's nothing left of that now anyway."

Sofia ripped the fridge open and found exactly what she'd hoped she'd find. Thrusting a bottle of beer into Sara's hand, she popped another open and took a healthy drag.

"Let's talk about this over a beer. Or do you think I'm a stranger to this method of coping with stuff, at least once in a while? Do you think I'm that naïve? What the hell do you think about me at all? Who am I to you, Sara Sidle? If you want me to be a friend, which seems that way since you trusted me with this in the beginning, we'll talk like friends. But we'll really talk. No back-pedalling."

The fear that crept inexorably into Sara's eyes told a story of its own. Shifting gears immediately, Sofia's expression softened and she placed the beer onto the work surface behind her with an exhausted sigh.

"Look... Here's what I'm thinking. You've been burned. Badly. By people, friends, family, a lover, whoever, people whom you trusted implicitly. Or whom you are supposed to be able to trust. Whenever you are close to letting someone in, some ingrained mechanism makes you pull back as quickly as if you'd been tasered. I don't pose no threat, Sara. I like you. I truly, honestly like you and somewhere along the way I started caring about you. And you can push me away, but there are signs that tell me that you don't really want to. I don't want the story of your life on a silver platter, right here, right now. All I want to know is if I'm mistaken. If you can tell me that, look me into the eyes and tell me you didn't consider us becoming friends, at some time, I'll leave. But once I'm gone, I won't try again. Because I honour your decision, one way or the other."

Sara seemed frozen to the spot, her eyes clouded. But then she lowered her head, fidgeting with the neck of the beer bottle still tightly clutched between her fingers. Peeling on the label. Placing it on the table and bypassing Sofia, she opened a cabinet and retrieved two cups, filling them with strong black coffee. This had been bound to happen. One day there would be someone who wouldn't be intimidated, who wouldn't be frightened, at least not enough to step back onto safe grounds, away from her. Someone who'd genuinely care. And she'd be damned if she didn't know that Sofia was such a person. And one she really wanted to be all that for her, too, if she was being absolutely honest with herself.

Sofia's eyes followed her every movement, and they noticed how she gripped the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles turned white.

Like with most things, Sara's decision-making happened internally and she contemplated in silence.

When she turned around, all fight had left her body and it made her look small, slumped against the counter.

"You're still bleeding."

Sofia huffed.

"So now you care about that little detail, yeah? Just tell me where you keep your first aid kit."

Stepping hesitantly closer, Sara's now clear hazel eyes beckoned Sofia to lift her hand again so she could have a look. When she took it gently and cradled it in her own, inspecting the cut to Sofia's finger with almost professional demeanour, Sofia felt the weight of the moment crash down on her, too and her hand began to lightly shake in Sara's.

"Bathroom, now, Curtis. This needs to be properly bandaged or you'll keep bleeding all over my floors."


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Sofia came to slowly, her head throbbing. She tried to reach out to the left, where usually her nightstand would be, and the desired bottle of water, but her hand just hit the back of a sofa. Disoriented she cracked one eye open, taking in her surroundings.

She was covered with a warm plaid throw blanket, a ray of bright sunlight breaking through a crack between dark curtains and illuminating the room she was in partly. Shelves filled with books lined the wall, a coffee table littered with empty beer bottles, two empty tumblers and science magazines, a small TV screen at the far wall, all colours in the room warm and welcoming.

She was still in Sara's place.

Memories returned reluctantly, and she groaned. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd had that much to drink. Coffee just hadn't sufficed, at some point they'd needed liquid courage to keep talking. She lifted herself up on one elbow, rubbing her eyes, and only then noticed the figure slouched in the comforter half facing the couch.

Sara. She wasn't sleeping, she was watching Sofia, closely, the faintest hint of a disconscerting smile playing around the corners of her mouth. The gaze was so gentle that something inside Sofia convulsed rather uncomfortably at the feeling being looked upon like that awakened.

She fell back into the cushion, one arm coming up to cover her eyes, more or less mumbling into her sleeve.

„Why are you sitting there staring at me, Sidle, huh? Basking in my misery? Cos I feel like shit."

Sara made no move. The smile on her face only grew, now that she reckoned Sofia couldn't see it, and she took no offence in the harsh words.

"You looked so serene when you slept. So calm. Like not a thing in the world had ever taken a toll on you, like you never had to struggle with anything, like you've never been in pain. When I know you have. You've lived through your own share of difficulties. It can't be easy growing up trying to measure up to the expectations of a family like yours. Your mom being the perfect cop, making the perfect career, your dad that successful businessman. Even more difficult when after you initially chose to follow in your mother's footsteps, you suddenly turn towards science and away from pursuing a career as a cop. Tell me, Sofia, why did you take your detective's exam? Too much pressure? Or do you really like that side of law enforcement more? I think you are a brilliant CSI, and that we've lost someone great. Not that you're not just as good a Detective, you can work people, you are able to deal with the politics, you have a knack for finding clues, you obviously see more than the usual cops do, and you have the attitude to go along with it just fine, too. You're almost frighteningly perfect at both, you would be able to come far however you chose. But you've been through some shit, I know that. Your father died too early. Bell." Sara stopped for a beat, the smile fading, remembering her poor reaction. "You don't recover easily from something like that. How is it possible for you to just lie there and look like a baby in your sleep? You didn't even so much as stir once since I came in here."

Sofia was dumbfounded. She sat up, folding her legs and wrapping her arms around them, eyeing the brunette.

"How long have you been watching me sleep, Sara?"

Shrugging, Sara reached for her coffee cup and took a sip.

"I'm not sure. Two hours maybe?"

"Wha-? Why?"

"Because I could."

"That's no answer and you know it. Why, Sara?"

"That's exactly the answer. Because I could. Stare at you for hours without you noticing. Without having to be afraid to be caught, to get questioned, figured out. Because you were right here and I just couldn't help myself, I couldn't possibly have done anything else but stay after I tiptoed through here to make some coffee and saw you sleeping like that. I needed to look at you for as long as I possibly could."

Sofia sucked in a sharp breath. Something dawned on her, but the thought just confused her even more.

"I don't think I really comprehend a single thing you're saying. I don't understand _what_ it is you're saying. I just know you're still staring, but I really gotta use the bathroom. Think you can do five minutes without me to gawk at?"

There were wrinkles around Sara's eyes when she smiled. Just a few, but they made her expression so much more accessible. Real. This was the Sara Greg had been talking about. Sofia would have lied if she'd said that finally being faced with the real deal didn't frighten her. It did. This woman exuded a confidence that the other mostly seemed to fake, unless she was in work-mose. This woman didn't talk around stuff. She seemed relaxed, comfortable in her own skin, openly admitting to all she'd just said and not feeling shameful about it. It was incredible. Captivating.

"I think I will survive. But could you hurry?"

Sofia didn't understand the shift that had happened, just that it had. Like the morning's talk had inevitably erased some issues between them, and this was like a restart, yet on a completely different level. One she wasn't sure she could handle.

Splashing cold water in her face, Sofia pondered if she'd forgotten something they had talked about earlier. Her recollection of their conversation was somewhat blurry, considering the amount of alcohol she'd consumed it wasn't any wonder. They had talked a lot, occasionally fallen back into arguing, then calming again, shedding light on some questions, avoiding others. It had been more than insightful. But she really wasn't sure she remembered it all.

When she stepped out the bathroom, she jumped since Sara was leaning against the wall right beside the door.

"Why did you really come here this morning, Sofia? We still haven't clarified that. Even if we were on our way towards a friendship, we were by far not close enough yet for you to make such a fuss. There's more to it and I want to know, or we'll start off on the wrong foot again. And I don't want that. Not any more. What I told you today are some things that-" The hesitation was minute. "That I need to have treated with the utmost respect and privacy. I know you know that. And as strange as this is for me, I trust you with it, still. Even sober. I trust you. And it feels weird and right at the same time. So this time it's me asking you to tell me I'm not mistaken. Tell me there was more behind your coming here than you let on."

Sara, split wide open, for no one else but Sofia to see. Hers to keep intact, to soothe those worries, or hers to break, completely.

Sofia's mouth opened and closed, yet she didn't find the words.

Sara jumped in once more.

"The coffee. The knowledge of my kitchen. The grapefruit juice. The way you tried to confront me. All of this has Greg written all over, am I right? He talked to you, didn't he?"

Afraid that Sara would doubt her trust in her best friend was still justified, she hurried to answer.

"Sara, he never told me anything apart from that. And that he knew you were already back. Not one personal detail. Please, tell me you believe me! Everything else-"

"You figured out all by yourself. Yeah, I know that. That still doesn't explain why _you_ came. Honestly, I expected it to be him behind the door this morning. You let yourself be sent here. I want the reason, Sofia, and I want it now, or I'm not saying another word and we'll forget this day ever happened. The truth, Curtis!"

The truth was easy. But too hard to even admit to herself. Way too difficult to ever explain to Sara. Who had just spent two hours just watching her sleep. Who was standing too close. Gazing at her too expectantly and focused. And Sofia snapped.

She surged forward. There are now or never moments in life. Moments, when you just had to switch off your brain and rely on your gut feeling, and whatever the outcome, it was clarification that was needed more than saving oneself from the pain that might eventually ensue. So her hands cupped Sara's face, the bandage rough on warm skin, holding her tightly, giving her no chance to draw back as she closed the distance between them and stopped when her mouth wasn't even a breath away from Sara's any more.

"You want to know?" She whispered, her eyes fixed on Sara's.

"Everything!"

And Sofia captured Sara's lips before the word had even left them completely, kissing the brunette hard, the momentum driving them backwards until Sara's shoulder-blades hit the wall behind her.

Using the faint 'oompfh' that escaped Sara at the impact, Sofia dipped in, all her caution already in the wind, and blessedly so, and tentatively brushed the tip of her tongue against Sara's.

The reaction came a bit belated, but it came. Strong fingers clawed into her sides, digging into her ribs, pulling her closer, and Sara began to move. The hidden dragon now unleashed, it clawed its way out of its cave with a ferocity that derived from a long time lying in wait, lingering, not daaring to even hope to be released ever. Sofia's own tongue searching for more contact, her lips latching on to Sofia's and the kiss was deepened, fastened, intensified by mutual want, clear as the day outside the still dark apartment now.

Even when they needed to come up for air, they still stayed close, lips in constant contact, nipping, tasting. Hands wandering above clothes, Sofia's body slumped into Sara's, covering it against the wall.

"That's how much I care." Sofia muttered.

Sara's head rolled back and bumped into the wall with a soft thud while she inhaled slowly, allowing the moment to sink in and the most diffident, hopeful of smiles to flash across her features.

"Well, that explains it quite impressively."

They found each other's gaze again.

"What now? Now that you know what _I_ was so afraid of, Sara."

The taller woman slowly shook her head.

"Do you still think you need to be afraid?"

"More than ever."

"Don't be. Trust me."

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><p><strong>Reviews are most welcome. Thanks for reading.<strong>


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